


Picture in the Compass

by justanafterthought



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bisexual Steve Rogers, F/M, Internalized Biphobia, M/M, Oneshot, felt like writing angst, this was originally posted on my main
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 17:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9335543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanafterthought/pseuds/justanafterthought
Summary: Prompt from anonymous: Bucky and Steve were together before the war and after he saves Bucky from Zola but stays distant so they don't get caught bu Bucky sees Peggy's picture in his compass and is heartbroken and they argue but Steve's loved Bucky the whole [time] and he realizes what a big dumb doofus he is because Bucky's now convinced he doesn't have a place anymore and Steve just can't have that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (note copied from my originally work)
> 
> "I'm sorry is all I can say."

Before the war, it was all drunken touches here and there, a press of lips to a collarbone, a hand where boys don't touch other boys, a sloppy kiss while the lights were off. They had to be quiet, otherwise they'd be found out. They  _couldn't_ be found out. It was far too dangerous. 

Bucky, in another drunken night as the war loomed over the country's head, press his lips to Steve's in the quiet of their apartment, a drink in one hand that was soon left abandoned. 

"Mhm," Steve whispered, his hands running through Bucky's hair. Bucky ran his lips up and down Steve's neck, the smell of whiskey and scotch on his breath. Bucky's strong hands moved from Steve's shoulders to his waist, lifting his small form up to rest in his lap. Steve moaned at the contact, pressing closer to press his lips to Bucky's. 

"Shh, Stevie, don' wanna get caugh'," Bucky slurred. His hands wrapped around Steve to keep him close as they moved against each other slowly. Bucky bit down gently on Steve's lip, eliciting a soft gasp from Steve.

"They're gonna hear."

"Should we stop?" Bucky breathed, not wanting Steve to answer. Steve stilled against Bucky, his breath hot against the other man's cheek. He pressed a gentle kiss to Bucky's cheek before moving off his lap. 

"Not tonight," he whispered, flattening his hair and smoothing his shirt. He leaned in and pressed another kiss to Bucky's temple. "Maybe sober up."

These drunken touches were becoming few and far between, and Bucky knew he had to savor them. He watched as Steve left for the bedroom, his footsteps soft and gentle on the freezing wooden floor. 

 

 

"The name does sound familiar. I'm sorry." The two simple sentences were enough to get Steve's ass into gear. Bucky couldn't be dead, he  _couldn't be,_ he was the strong one. He couldn't just die. So, with or without Peggy's permission, he knew he would save him. 

"You don't have to do this alone Steve," Peggy would say, convincing him to at least go in with reinforcements. With the Howling Commandoes at his side, Steve stormed the facility, the Commandoes holding the courtyard. 

_Where are you? Where are you?_

Steve ran down what seemed like endless hallways, listening as best as he could to not only the fighting inside, but any sounds inside the building. 

_"Sergeant..."_

The world echoed through the hallway and caused Steve to break into a sprint in the direction of the _sound._

_"Sergeant..."_

"Bucky?" Steve whispered, slipping into the room that the voice emanated from. 

"S- Steve?" Steve nodded with enthusiasm. 

"Yeah," he breathed, "Yeah Buck, it's me. I thought you were dead."

"I-I thought you were smaller."

 

 

When they strutted into camp, Steve confronting Peggy over his ride being late, Bucky took the chance to speak. 

"Let's hear it for Captain America!" Claps all around, the sounds of the forest around them drowned out by the applause. 

Only Steve could hear the disconsolate tone to the words. 

 

 

All it took for Bucky to break was the pan in of a camera to a compass, a picture of Peggy Carter placed carefully into the frame. 

He did not cry. He doesn't cry. 

 

 

It's the night before their most crucial mission.  _"'It's just jumping onto a train Buck." Just._

Bucky spoke in these one word answers in the hopes that Steve would notice something was up. That he wasn't alright. He was supposed to be the strong one, so he understood that Steve didn't really pay attention. He felt as though the attention was better put onto someone else. Preferably Peggy. So when Steve confronted him about the fact that he was getting closed off, Bucky could honestly say that he was surprised. 

"Bucky?" 

"Mhm?"

"Why'd you stop talking to me? Did I do something?" Bucky looked up from where he was laying on his bed, staring at Steve with (with what he had hoped turned out as disbelief).

"You didn't do anything. I just haven't felt like talking." Steve sat up on his bed, giving Bucky a look.

"Oh don't give me that," Steve said, "You talk like there's no tomorrow. Something's up." Bucky curled up on his bed, not wanting to have this conversation. Not now. He just wanted to get through this war, both the one outside the door and the one in his mind. But the words seemed to escape his lips faster than he meant to. 

"Do you love her?"

"Who? Peggy? Well- "

"You do, don't you?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Bucky curled up even tighter, but he knew that the words had to get out there, out there into the air so Steve could breathe them in, taste them in the back of his throat before he chewed them down. 

"Did we mean anything Steve?"

"What are you talking about?"

"All those years. All those drunken touches. Did it  _mean_ anything?"

Steve didn't know how to react. Bucky realized he had just spoken more words than he had in weeks, and he immediately wanted to suck them back in, to forget about them ever leaving. He just wanted to sleep. But no, now he was on a roll, and he couldn't stop. 

"Nothing to say? Nice to know that it all meant something." Bucky hated feeling this way, but he began yelling himself hoarse. "It was always  _you_ who complained about getting caught,  _you_ who didn't want to make any noise,  _you,_ who would never..." Bucky took in a deep breathe, and if he felt tears tickling his eyelashes then he ignored it. "...who never touched me  _first_. Just told me to sober up,  _every single time._ " Bucky sat the edge of the bed, staring at the floor because looking anywhere else would just be too damn painful. "It was always you who came up with the excuses."

"I get it though," Bucky continued, not letting Steve get a word in, "She's beautiful, she's strong, and she loves you. But I loved you too!" Steve couldn't find it in himself to speak. He stared over at Bucky, his mouth hanging open slightly as he listened to his best friend. 

"Bucky, I- "

"Don't say it. Please don't say it," Bucky whimpered while he ran his hands through his hair anxiously. "Don't say it because it doesn't concern me anymore."

"I love you."

"Stop it. _Stop it._ Don't do this to me," Steve stood up, moving to kneel in front of Bucky, his hands resting on Bucky's knees. "Don't you dare."

"I love you alright? You know why I could never say it."

"No, why? I said it all the time! And you say it now, in the middle of a fucking war?" Steve felt his insides twist and he didn't want to get angry, didn't want to be angry, he couldn't do that to Bucky, but he could feel it bubbling up inside of him, and if he didn't say anything, he was going to explode. 

"You know why? Because all those times when we were younger, it didn't ever feel  _right._ You heard how people talk about that stuff. It's wrong. It still is wrong. I can't just admit this kind of stuff to myself, okay? You holding me to everything I said when I was younger is unfair. Blaming me for the fact that I couldn't handle it is so selfish." Bucky stepped away from Steve, the tears falling feeling hot. Angry.

"If you're so angry at me for being 'selfish', then why did you just say you loved me?"

"Because, despite it all, I still love you, even if the world hates it." Bucky shook his head, backing away farther. 

"Not good enough. Simply saying the world hates it is what a depressed teenager would say." Steve was beginning to feel defeated. 

"I didn't expect to last this long."

"What?" Steve looked at Bucky as if he was totally oblivious. 

"You know what I mean. You know how I was before this serum. I was some idiot kid who got the shit beaten out of him every time he threw himself into a fight. I didn't expect to live for so long. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to hurt you if something happened to me." When Bucky didn't respond, Steve took it as a cue. 

"But none of this means that I don't love you. I love you so much it hurts, and the fact that I couldn't even hold your hand and show people how amazing you are and how incredible it is that I found someone as great as you, it killed me Buck."

Bucky wiped at his face with the back of his hand, moving over to Steve who indistinctly wrapped his arms around him, pulling Bucky close to his chest. Steve placed a kiss against his hair, tear tracks on his face finally drying. 

"I'm sorry." Bucky whispered against the fabric of Steve's shirt.

"Don't be," Steve muttered back, feeling Bucky nuzzle in closer, "It's alright."

 

 

Watching Bucky fall the next day, the metal giving out and breaking off the side of the train made him realize something;

Saying "I love you" is always best saved for a deathbed, and he just never realized how little time Bucky had. 

**Author's Note:**

> Go over to my main:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/jecroisentoi
> 
> Thanks,  
> Dorian  
> (My writing style has gotten a bit better since this. This was originally written in 2014.)


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